


The Self-Destructive Soul

by anamatics



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Gen, Insanity, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-18
Updated: 2012-08-18
Packaged: 2017-11-12 10:29:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/489861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anamatics/pseuds/anamatics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>we always talk about Helena being mad, but she never quite is.  Insanity is a fine-tuned sword.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Self-Destructive Soul

**Author's Note:**

> (triggers for sort of graphic depictions of violence. And insanity. And second person. inspired by a WH13 headcanon, title is from a Grace Potter song.)

Your eyes burn as you tumble out of bronze. There is the sick, rotten smell of copper and of sulfur everywhere around you. Your nose wrinkles, you know that the smell is you, rather than the world around you. 

 

How long you’ve been asleep you cannot say. Your mind is clear, it is quiet. You revel in this moment, embrace it, and hold it like a long-lost lover. Your eyes still burn and there’s a kind-sounding voice just off to your right. You turn, eyes flutter shut, and you see nothing.

It is underneath that voice that the other starts to sing. It whispers tales of woe and strife, of how this world is no better than when you left it. It is probably worse off, you realize, and your heart pounds against your chest as a second voice tells you that you’re going to help him change the world.

How little does he know.

-

You cannot shake the slippery, eel-like feel of the second voice. You know that it belongs to the device you left affixed to Christina’s coffin in France. You crave it, long to be near it, to hold it once again in your arms.

Yet you bide your time, you play James MacPherson’s little game. You let him dress you up like a doll and let him tell you what to do. You try not to count the number of ways that you could have already killed him. It’s easy to imagine his blood on your hands, a knife in his jugular. The life leaking out of him your rebirth.

You’re so desperate to kill him. You hate him so. Hate how he looks at you, how he tells you nothing of his own plans, yet expects to know yours. You hold your tongue and cock you head to one side as he tells you that you are far more beautiful than the history books say. You find him quite intriguing - but you will not sleep with him.

It occurs to you after a while that perhaps it would make things easier. Sex makes you forget and the voice inside your head dulls to silence. You can feel nothing, and you laugh endlessly for hours. The first time you’d realized this was after you’d found the thing. You’d taken McShane home even though you knew he hated you. You had him again and again, until your body was raw and your mind numb with how much you hated him in that moment.

You’d left him much like you leave James now. Addled and confused, grasping for conclusions that cannot be found.

You realize that you’re quite mad.

-

You kill James at the Warehouse - he gets you in the door. Your mind traces the familiar paths and tells you where to go and what to take. You touch nothing, you cut away his protection and you finally have your revenge.

You let him have you just once time, you’re curious as to how good he is. Your mind tells you he is terrible but you long for the touch of a lover. 

The morning comes and your hand is on your knife. It takes all of your willpower not to kill him then and there. The time isn’t right; you need him for things before he is indeed expendable.

They’re staring at you, shocked that you’d have the audacity. You smile at the woman, and wink at the terrible-at-kissing man. His name is Peter, and you hate him. Your friend thinks that they could be useful, but you have your own matters to attend to now. 

The voices tell you to kill them now, blood and gore spilling out across the Warehouse floor. You will read the future in their entrails, and it will show you the way.

Your force yourself to walk away - invisible you are moving so quickly. The future is a wondrous place, and you hate it so. It is not the same; the future has left you wanting it gone.

-

You play a cat and mouse game with the Warehouse. You follow their agents and watch them, looking for a way in. You have to have them to help you get to what you need. You like and endear yourself to them all.

You start with Agent Bering. The one who pointed the gun to your head, and the one you thought would be the hardest nut to crack. You tell her of Christina and of your crimes, and she lets you come along. You save her life and you’ve won her heart.

Later she tells you of her dead lover like a lost child. You think her weak for loving this man who abandoned her as strongly as she does, and you school your features neutral. Can’t have her thinking you’re heartless. It will ruin your plan.

A few placating words and far more innuendo than should be necessary and you’ve won far more than her heart. Her touches begin to linger and you want to run and hide from them. They’re warm and kind and a love that you cannot reconcile with the world here.

It’s a brave new world, and you hate it. It must end. The silver tongue of the devil is in your ear, warping you - pulling you higher. The caress is that of a lover, you drift into it, and have yourself a moment of indulgence. 

It should not arouse you, thinking of the end of the world.

Your only regret as you point your gun at her head is that you can never have her. She would have understood your madness in time. She would have loved you for it regardless.

She’s already seen it, seen you laughing as you kill. See’s your eye twitch and her hands quake with fear. Good. She should be afraid. You control her life now, and you want her so badly in that moment. She’s fierce as a lioness and you entertain the idea of saving her. She can be your queen of this dead world. 

You cannot kill her.

You want to take her apart and see how it is she ticks.

-

Adwin Kosan is a bastard. You hate him and his smarmy look as you coldly inform him that your country used to rule his. He glares right back at you and tells you that he has every mind to have the Regents kill you, but it is his decision and he thinks you can be saved. The whispering is gone now and you’re terrified that it will never come back.

The old friend isn’t there and you’re laughing and laughing.

“How exactly will this work?” You ask as he prepares to erase you from your mind. They think it will calm your mind, quiet the voices and make you whole again. 

You do not want to be whole.

Adwin Kosan shrugs and you lash you, the heavy hand of your guard the only thing preventing the Egyptian’s eyes from being clawed out by your nails.

Oh the blood everywhere, it’d look so beautiful. 

The coin is in your hand and after a while, you can’t hear anything anymore.


End file.
